" Commander Kennedy walked over to a little kitchenette. He returned with some tissues. "Wipe your eyes." He pointed behind Michael to the left. "The bathroom is behind you. The microwave will provide you with any finger foods or nonalcoholic beverage you ask for. There is a sink to rinse items in and all the garbage goes into the recycle drop."Michael looked over and scanned the kitchenette. He identified the microwave and the door with the recycle symbol."How about we start you with a cheeseburger and French Fries?" The commander walked over to the microwave. He repeated the order. "What type of drink?" He turned and looked back at Michael."Could I have," Michael searched his memories for a favored taste, "a root beer?" Michael winced, expecting a reaction.There was a ding. The commander carried a tray to the table. "One replicator special," he placed the tray before Michael. "Salt, pepper, ketchup?" Mayo, ketchup please."Jacob walked back toward the microwave. Michael inhaled the. The receptors in my brain were processing signals as fast as they were fired, shooting waves of energy downward to the train floor and back up my legs, circling my engorged labia, punching straight through my proud clitoris, swirling my hips to where Adam's hand supported my bare bottom, and racing up my spine to meet the next wave.Amid the electrical disturbance inside me, I became vaguely aware of the train stopping and a surge of people pushing us forward, almost losing my balance as I struggled to recognise where external heat ended and internal fires began. If it wasn't for Adam stepping with me to keep me steady I'd have toppled into the lap of the man whom I found myself facing. People milled around us, pressing, shoving, settling into the cramped train. The driver made a tinny, mumbled announcement and those that deciphered it shuffled more before the buzzer sounded and the doors promptly rolled shut. Over the seated man's shoulder I could just make out the station name as.
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